Second Chances: The accompianment to "Just A Friend".
Told from Sydney's point of view.
Authors' Note: Thank you so much for all the feedback you gave me for "Just A Friend"! I wrote this one as a accompianment (I know I didn't spell that right :P ) for JAF, it's Sydney's point-of-view. I was thinking of doing one for Vaughn, too. What do you think? Feedback is always appreciated :D I'm not too sure about this one, so let me know :)
This was not happening.
This could not be happening.
This was happening.
I had managed to get out of the clutches of "The Man", by slamming my chair against some twiddly hunchman, and after blowing the steel iron door open with an oxygen tank, I got the hell out of there. Never in a million years would you think your own mother would strap you to a chair and leave you there to die.
Go figure.
Immediately, I came back here, to the warehouse I should have met my father at a few hours ago. My heart had been pounding the whole way there, wondering if I would get the chance to see him again. I had run down the Tai Pei streets, hearing only my breath and the clunk, clunk, clunk, my heels made against the cement sidewalks.
Whenever I shut my eyes, I saw his face. It wasn't the normal, suit and tie, with a smile face. It wasn't the face I knew, anyways. It wasn't a scared, terrified, " I'm going to die" face, either. It was a look of longing, reflecting back on all those things he knew he should have done, but never got around to. Never had the patience or ability to. Then, he had dissapeared. One moment I was slamming that fire extinguisher against the glass, and then next he had pushed himself into the depths of that water.
Then, I had been carted away by two men with guns in my moment of weakness.
God, did I hate being weak.
Now, here I am.
I had noticed someone in the corner of the room, propped up on a chair. But I was in that mode when your mind was only focused on one thing. I knew it wasn't Vaughn, because....I just knew. The second I had realized he was in fact, not there, I had done the only thing I could.
I phoned my father.
My questions came out in a rush, as I paced back and forth. Had they found him yet? When would they find him? Do they have any idea if they could? Was he alive? Do you know the terror my body is plagued with? Then, the accusations had started. Your not doing enough. You don't care enough. You can do more.
I was pacing back and forth, not hearing anything but my father trying to soothe me. There doing all they can. I'll phone you as soon as I get word. Don't worry, Sydney. Good luck. The only person who had successfully stopped me from worrying about anything, was Vaughn. And god knows that isn't any use at the moment. I was so wrapped up in my conversation, that I hadn't noticed him. I didn't know how long he was standing in the doorway, I didn't care. All I cared about, was that he was alive.
He looked as normal as you could be after what he had gone through, I guess. He was soaked, from head to toe. His hair was stuck to his head, slightly a shade darker because it was wet. He was still wearing what I had left him in, give or take a few puddles around his feet. He looked cold, and ready to give up.
I could hear my father on the phone, wondering if I was alright. Was I? I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure of anything at the moment, except that he and I were in the same room, and nothing was being done about it. The cellphone Will had given me for Christmas last year slid out of my hand, and I heard it crash to the floor. There he was, looking so tired, so drained, so...relieved. I heard my own voice, my lips brushing against eachother, but I didn't know how I remembered to speak. It was like system overload.
" Oh my god..."
I closed the gap between us. I don't know how, but soon I was wrapped in his arms, both of us leaning into eachothers' embrace. I felt my clothes getting damp, from a mixture of his wet clothes and my tears I didn't know. I pressed my cheek to the leather coat, and felt his cold hands touch my back.
I could hear his soft voice, reassuring me when I should be wondering if he was alright. Now that I think about it, I think he was reassuring us both. Me, that I still had that second chance with him, and to himself, that I was there. Wrapped in his embrace. It wasn't a bad dream anymore. Suddenly, it was reality.
Heavenly reality.
We both realized that there was no such thing as third chances. We had been able to get a second one, but sometimes there are no time outs, no more chances, no more strikes. Sometimes it was now or never.
I don't think I realized what had happened until I felt that warmth on my lips. It was like closure, knowing he was alive, his lips pressed to mine. I counted the beats of my heart until we parted again, but then again my heart was beating faster then normal. When we did part, I was so happy to see those eyes open.
The green eyes that I had first seen with the side of my face twice as big as it usually was. The green eyes that had looked rather taunting when I accused him of having a fight with his wife. The green eyes that had been so warm the night he comforted me on the pier. The same green eyes I had fallen in love with the moment I looked into them.
I could feel my heart speed up, even faster, if that was possible. I knew I had to say it, because after the third try, you were out. I was on my second up, and wasn't about to strike out of this game. So I said it.
" I love you."
I waited what seemed like hours, were only seconds. A small smile crossed his face, and I literally felt his body relax as he said the words back to me. His voice was so drained, but so comforting at the same time.
" I love you, too."
That was when I realized that I didn't care about protocol. I didn't care that we were in the middle of a warehouse that reeked of blood and old bandages. It wasn't the most romantic setting, but that was when I realized.
In life, you rarely got second chances.
So rare was a second chance, that I wasn't about to let this one slip through my fingers.
I knew I needed to hold onto that for the rest of my life.
And I intended to.
Told from Sydney's point of view.
Authors' Note: Thank you so much for all the feedback you gave me for "Just A Friend"! I wrote this one as a accompianment (I know I didn't spell that right :P ) for JAF, it's Sydney's point-of-view. I was thinking of doing one for Vaughn, too. What do you think? Feedback is always appreciated :D I'm not too sure about this one, so let me know :)
This was not happening.
This could not be happening.
This was happening.
I had managed to get out of the clutches of "The Man", by slamming my chair against some twiddly hunchman, and after blowing the steel iron door open with an oxygen tank, I got the hell out of there. Never in a million years would you think your own mother would strap you to a chair and leave you there to die.
Go figure.
Immediately, I came back here, to the warehouse I should have met my father at a few hours ago. My heart had been pounding the whole way there, wondering if I would get the chance to see him again. I had run down the Tai Pei streets, hearing only my breath and the clunk, clunk, clunk, my heels made against the cement sidewalks.
Whenever I shut my eyes, I saw his face. It wasn't the normal, suit and tie, with a smile face. It wasn't the face I knew, anyways. It wasn't a scared, terrified, " I'm going to die" face, either. It was a look of longing, reflecting back on all those things he knew he should have done, but never got around to. Never had the patience or ability to. Then, he had dissapeared. One moment I was slamming that fire extinguisher against the glass, and then next he had pushed himself into the depths of that water.
Then, I had been carted away by two men with guns in my moment of weakness.
God, did I hate being weak.
Now, here I am.
I had noticed someone in the corner of the room, propped up on a chair. But I was in that mode when your mind was only focused on one thing. I knew it wasn't Vaughn, because....I just knew. The second I had realized he was in fact, not there, I had done the only thing I could.
I phoned my father.
My questions came out in a rush, as I paced back and forth. Had they found him yet? When would they find him? Do they have any idea if they could? Was he alive? Do you know the terror my body is plagued with? Then, the accusations had started. Your not doing enough. You don't care enough. You can do more.
I was pacing back and forth, not hearing anything but my father trying to soothe me. There doing all they can. I'll phone you as soon as I get word. Don't worry, Sydney. Good luck. The only person who had successfully stopped me from worrying about anything, was Vaughn. And god knows that isn't any use at the moment. I was so wrapped up in my conversation, that I hadn't noticed him. I didn't know how long he was standing in the doorway, I didn't care. All I cared about, was that he was alive.
He looked as normal as you could be after what he had gone through, I guess. He was soaked, from head to toe. His hair was stuck to his head, slightly a shade darker because it was wet. He was still wearing what I had left him in, give or take a few puddles around his feet. He looked cold, and ready to give up.
I could hear my father on the phone, wondering if I was alright. Was I? I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure of anything at the moment, except that he and I were in the same room, and nothing was being done about it. The cellphone Will had given me for Christmas last year slid out of my hand, and I heard it crash to the floor. There he was, looking so tired, so drained, so...relieved. I heard my own voice, my lips brushing against eachother, but I didn't know how I remembered to speak. It was like system overload.
" Oh my god..."
I closed the gap between us. I don't know how, but soon I was wrapped in his arms, both of us leaning into eachothers' embrace. I felt my clothes getting damp, from a mixture of his wet clothes and my tears I didn't know. I pressed my cheek to the leather coat, and felt his cold hands touch my back.
I could hear his soft voice, reassuring me when I should be wondering if he was alright. Now that I think about it, I think he was reassuring us both. Me, that I still had that second chance with him, and to himself, that I was there. Wrapped in his embrace. It wasn't a bad dream anymore. Suddenly, it was reality.
Heavenly reality.
We both realized that there was no such thing as third chances. We had been able to get a second one, but sometimes there are no time outs, no more chances, no more strikes. Sometimes it was now or never.
I don't think I realized what had happened until I felt that warmth on my lips. It was like closure, knowing he was alive, his lips pressed to mine. I counted the beats of my heart until we parted again, but then again my heart was beating faster then normal. When we did part, I was so happy to see those eyes open.
The green eyes that I had first seen with the side of my face twice as big as it usually was. The green eyes that had looked rather taunting when I accused him of having a fight with his wife. The green eyes that had been so warm the night he comforted me on the pier. The same green eyes I had fallen in love with the moment I looked into them.
I could feel my heart speed up, even faster, if that was possible. I knew I had to say it, because after the third try, you were out. I was on my second up, and wasn't about to strike out of this game. So I said it.
" I love you."
I waited what seemed like hours, were only seconds. A small smile crossed his face, and I literally felt his body relax as he said the words back to me. His voice was so drained, but so comforting at the same time.
" I love you, too."
That was when I realized that I didn't care about protocol. I didn't care that we were in the middle of a warehouse that reeked of blood and old bandages. It wasn't the most romantic setting, but that was when I realized.
In life, you rarely got second chances.
So rare was a second chance, that I wasn't about to let this one slip through my fingers.
I knew I needed to hold onto that for the rest of my life.
And I intended to.